


Howling at the Moon

by harpydora



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Stress Baking, Werewolves, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 02:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14707713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harpydora/pseuds/harpydora
Summary: "Oh thankfuck," Taako said. "Klarg, my dude, we need some help."(Or:That one post-finale AU where Magnus gets turned into a werewolf.)





	Howling at the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be the first chapter of a longer fic wherein Taako and Magnus moved in with Klarg and everyone bonded, but I don't think I'm ever going to revisit the idea. Either way, I like the first chapter a lot still, and I think it stands well enough on its own. So have 3k-ish words of Klarg dealing with Taako and Magnus being... well, Taako and Magnus. And also Magnus is a werewolf.

The advantages of staying in a small cabin in Fantasy Aspen were many. Near the top of the list: fresh air, the views, being near his family. Further advantages included a wide area to roam should the mood strike, and minimal interaction with others. The incidence of unexpected and unwanted visitors was, generally, zero.

So, when Klarg heard frantic banging on his front door while he was in the middle of brewing a nice oolong, he was miffed.

He set the pot of tea aside, making a mental note to gut his "visitors" if they kept him long enough that the tea over-steeped. Rather than give any sort of warning, Klarg padded to the front door and waited for another round of pounding before drawing himself up to his full height and throwing the door open wide.

An unfriendly rumble built in his chest, ready to be unleashed on whatever poor creatures had stumbled on his humble abode, but it died in his throat. On his front stoop, looking ashen and drawn, slumped one Magnus Burnsides. Next to him, with one of his arms slung across his shoulders (as if he could somehow keep the human propped up) stood Taako.

"Oh thank _fuck,_ " Taako said. "Klarg, my dude, we need some help."

Conflicting drives warred in Klarg's skull for a handful of moments. The dregs of Taako's magic and the fried remains of Lucas's implant urged him to pull the pair into his home. Give them food, water, tend to their needs as dutifully as a wretch like him could. He quashed those urges with vicious prejudice.

His baser instincts saw two people who had, on multiple occasions, bested him and who were now laid low. They pushed him to lunge forward, go for the throat, tear out their entrails because his oolong was almost certainly going to be ruined now. Klarg's claws twitched, but stilled as he shoved his instincts aside, too.

Whatever else had transpired, when held by divine power to tell the truth, he'd called these two people on his doorstep his friends. He stepped forward and hauled Magnus's weight off of Taako's shoulders. Magnus's skin was so hot against Klarg's pawpads that he nearly flinched away. "What the hell happened?"

Magnus mumbled something indistinct into Klarg's fur, but Taako picked up the conversational slack. "We got jumped while we were doing a job," he said. "Some local yokels needed help with a pack of dire wolves, and our guy Mango did what he does best. He got scratched up a little and we thought it was all good, but then he starts getting all weird while we were on our way to the next podunk in the valley."

Klarg shifted Magnus onto his bed with a huff. "There aren't any dire wolves out here, Taako."

"That's not what our healing bill says."

Dread reared its ugly head in the pit of Klarg's stomach. The valley was large, but not so large that Klarg couldn't guess where they'd picked up their job or where they might be headed. "Your healer, was he an old man with a lisp and only half his toes?" he asked, trying his best to keep from snarling.

Taako shrugged. "Yeah, sure, I guess. Not that I'm about to count a guy's appendages when he's doing us a favor."

Klarg did snarl this time. "For fuck's sake, that man is a moron. Taako, he isn't even a cleric! And everyone in that stupid town is inbred! They wouldn't know a dire wolf from a sharp mossy rock. I killed the last pack of them when I built this place. They were ruining my flower beds and I needed some new bedding." He gestured to the furs on which he'd laid Magnus.

"Then what the fuck did we just collect a bounty on? Because we _definitely_ got paid." Taako crossed his arms over his chest and glared up at Klarg. His body language tugged at Klarg's conditioning, made him want to bow and apologize for his impertinence, but Klarg kept his spine straight.

"Use your brain," Klarg growled. "What's going to look like a wolf and make you sick when you get its blood on you—like, say when you engage it in melee combat?" Almost absently, he rested his hand on Magnus's forehead. The skin burned with a virulent fever he didn't want to name.

But Taako, despite all his claims to the contrary, was not an idiot. Klarg knew you didn't get to be as good of a wizard as Taako was by being stupid. It did not take long for the elf to piece Klarg's suspicions together. "Holy shit. Are you seriously saying we tangled with a bunch of _werewolves?_ "

"Only one way to know for sure," Klarg said. But he thought the odds weren't in Magnus's favor, and he could tell that Taako was thinking that, too.

"Well _fuck,_ " Taako said.

"Yeah," Klarg agreed.

He turned away from Magnus and caught sight of his forgotten teapot. The chances of it being over-steeped were high. He lifted the lid and wafted some of the steam toward his snout. Ugh. Ruined.

He sighed. "I'm going to make some tea while we wait for the moon to rise. Do you want some?"

*

Sunset came early in the valley; the mountains rose tall on the horizon, blocking the sun long before it might have been lost to sight somewhere like Neverwinter. Magnus dozed fitfully on Klarg's furs, and Taako sucked down three cups of tea while Klarg made some arrangements out back.

There was no way Klarg was letting Magnus potentially transform inside and wreck his home (again), but he had his doubts on being able to create something that would hold him in place with such short notice. The best he could manage was cleaning out the lean-to that served as his garden shed. It would provide some privacy, if nothing else.

With his gardening implements stowed elsewhere and the sun hidden just behind tallest peak, Klarg pulled Magnus out of his bed and half-dragged him out back. That done, the only thing left to do was wait.

"That sounds as exciting as watching dough rise," Taako said, but the way the teacup trembled in his hand belied his blase words

Klarg snorted. "Go back inside. It's boring _and_ dangerous. If he turns, he probably won't know either of us. I've at least wrestled him before. You wouldn't stand a chance."

The part of Klarg that had been an impeccable butler recognized Taako's anxiety because the elf didn't fight it. He stayed in Klarg's house and bolted both doors. Leaving Klarg alone with the currently man-shaped, fever-stricken form of Magnus Burnsides.

Darkness descended, and with it came a stillness like the entire forest holding its breath. In late spring, the night insects usually sang their mating songs, but the night was hushed. The only sounds Klarg could pick up were the gentle scrape of leaves on branches in the breeze, Magnus's labored breathing, and the restless rattling of Taako in his cabin. Despite himself, Klarg felt his hackles raising. The chances of Magnus not transforming were rapidly approaching zero.

After what felt like an eternity, the moon crested the horizon and Klarg's vigil ended.

For all that the preceding hours had crawled by, the change took Magnus quickly: the lycanthropy tore his form apart and reshaped it in only a handful of minutes. Bones snapped, knitted back together, skin split, fur burst forth, and then Magnus was not Magnus at all. In his place stood a hulking beast of a wolf with a peculiar brindle pelt, a sloped back that indicated it may walk on two legs given provocation, and luminous gray eyes that held no hint of humanity in their glow.

"Well, that's that," said Klarg, and the moment was broken.

The wolf formerly known as Magnus bolted, throwing himself forward in an ungainly loping run. There wasn't a single subtle thing to his flight; he muscled aside anything in his path and did nothing to hide the thunderous falls of his clawed feet.

Klarg knew that to lose sight of the wolf would be to lose Magnus. His instincts screamed at him to give chase, to hunt that which would try to hunt. And for the first time in ages, Klarg submitted himself to the urges.

It wasn't much of a chase in the sense of tracking elusive prey. Magnus was an unsubtle creature under normal circumstances, and the throes of his transformation did nothing to change that. But his lupine legs were longer, and running on four legs would almost always trump running on two.

Klarg strained to keep pace, but he managed. His cabin fell behind them, and Magnus pressed forward with no regard for what laid ahead.

They hurtled through the forest, Klarg herding Magnus away from the most dangerous geographical features: shouldering him off a course that would lead over a cliff, driving him away from a cave Klarg knew harbored a family of boars. When they came upon a lone stag drinking from a stream, Magnus pounced and tore out its throat in a single brutal lunge.

The stag dropped and Magnus followed it down. He consumed its flesh ravenously, gulping down bloody chunks with no regard for his surroundings. Klarg circled him as he ate, kept his ears tuned for any hint of other predators alerted by all the noise.

Magnus ate his fill in peace, and the meal seemed to slow his stride when he took off again. Klarg kept up with him now at an easy pace, and now the wolf seemed less prone to baring his teeth whenever Klarg nudged him in a different direction.

Come moon-set, they were both exhausted but otherwise none the worse for wear. Klarg managed to urge Magnus to gallop through a stream which sluiced away the worst of the blood from his fur. Neither of them were remotely clean by the time they collapsed near Klarg's humble home, but they'd returned unharmed. And that, Klarg figured, was what was important.

*

Klarg woke first with a not-inconsiderable crick in his neck and a snoutful of dirt where his face had been pressed against the ground. Slumped over him, naked but un-fevered and alive, laid Magnus Burnsides in human form. Klarg grumbled, pushed himself up, and caught Magnus before the human hit the ground. Several urges conflicted: groom him and find him clothing; leave him to fend for himself; forage for a prey animal of his own to bring back to the cabin. He ignored them all, choosing instead to shoulder Magnus's weight and drag him back inside.

As soon as he opened the door, the aroma of baked goods assaulted his nose like a delicately spiced punch. Pastries and pies and other confections covered nearly every flat surface near his stove. Each dish Klarg laid eyes on looked more complex than the last: some were glazed, some had intricately woven crusts, some smelled so spiced and were covered in so much powdered sugar that Klarg had to fight not to sneeze just looking at them.

At the center of the profusion of pastries stood Taako with Klarg's apron tied over his clothes and streaks of flour all over his face and forearms. He watched the stove like a hawk, not even acknowledging Klarg or Magnus.

Klarg shuffled past, taking care to disturb neither baked goods nor baker, and deposited Magnus back on his bed. He'd have to wash the furs, he noted, but at least Magnus was no longer sweating out a fever.

He turned his attention to one of the nearest pies, which was a savory-smelling thing that had a crust that had been formed out of ropes of dough made to look like creeping vines. He could recognize the smell of some deer jerky he'd had stashed in his larder, but the other smells made no sense. "Taako, where in the world did you find these spices?" he asked, though he cringed at how quiet and proper his voice had become in the asking.

Taako snarled at him more viciously than Magnus ever had the night before without ever taking his eyes off his baking project. After a few moments of tense silence, Taako grabbed Klarg's oven mitts and retrieved the thing from the oven. Klarg couldn't tell what it was, but it smelled amazing nonetheless.

With the—pie? cake?—out of the oven, Taako tossed aside the oven mitts and wiped his flour-dusted arms with Klarg's apron. (Klarg wasn't proud of himself, but he could at least admit in the privacy of his own skull that a part of him enjoyed seeing the casual way Taako used his things like they belonged to him, too.)

"I'm _Taako,_ my main dude," Taako said. "Used to be that mixing magic and food was my _thing._ Now that the world's all nice and saved, I'm giving it another shot."

Klarg nodded as if that answered the question; maybe it did, but he found himself far more interested in the vine-covered pie. He leaned forward to inspect it more closely, and was rewarded by a swat to his nose.

"Nuh-uh, that shit's still cooling. Touch it and face my righteous anger." Taako crossed his arms over his chest as if he were trying to be intimidating, but the effect was ruined by the dusting of flour high on one cheek and on his chin.

"Whatever," grumped Klarg. "It's not like it's my house or stove or ingredients you're using."

"What'd you expect me to do? You and him run off and all I hear is some howling and then fuck-all 'til morning." He balled his hands up into fists but stuffed them into the pockets stitched onto Klarg's apron. "You can't expect a guy like me to just twiddle my thumbs."

Any witty retort percolating in Klarg's brain died when Magnus stirred. Taako's face went through a complicated set of expressions: from irritation, to surprise, to hope, to satisfaction, and back into irritation again. But this time it was only for show.

"Hey, big guy, talk to me," Taako said as he shoved past Klarg and knelt next to the bed. If Magnus's nudity bothered Taako, the elf gave no sign.

Magnus groaned and dragged one hand over his face. "Ugh. My mouth tastes like ass."

"No, it tastes like raw venison," Klarg said. Taako glared at him, but Klarg just shrugged. "Welcome back to humanity."

Magnus pushed himself into a sitting position, still scrubbing at his face. "Ugh, what happened?"

"You got all big and furry and went on a rampage," Taako told him.

Another groan from Magnus, then he finally seemed to focus on his surroundings. "Whoa. Where are we? Were you really mille-fueille worried?"

"Well, you were so feverish you were barely conscious when Taako brought you here," Klarg cut in. "And by 'here' I mean my home. Which I will thank you not to wreck while you're here."

"That was _one_ time," Magnus said almost automatically.

"You threw my dog into the fire," Klarg reminded him, but he let it go. "Anyway, as near as we can tell, those wolves you and Taako cleared out were werewolves. And now you're one, too."

"Well tits," Magnus swore.

"Yeah," said Klarg. "And the moon's going to be full tonight, too. So you'd better eat up before it rises again or you're going to be in a world of hurt come sunrise tomorrow."

Taako glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with Klarg. "How did you learn so much about werewolves? Doesn't seem your speed, being a bugbear and all."

Klarg's lips curled back in a sneer, baring his fangs less at Taako and more at his own memories. "As much as I hate it, I _did_ use to be Lucas Miller's personal assistant. He had his irons in a lot of different fires, and you don't handle a person's daily business without picking things up."

"Shit," Magnus swore again.

"Right," Klarg agreed. "So you're going to transform again tonight, maybe even tomorrow night, and then after that you should be fine for a month."

"Guess we're crashing here, then," Taako said.

Klarg blinked at him, snarl replaced by a furrowed brow. "Say what."

"You gotta keep Mango here out of trouble tonight and tomorrow. No sense in us going anywhere else."

Magnus nodded emphatically. "And you said I gotta eat, and Taako already baked us a bunch of stuff. Might as well enjoy it!"

"Who said you could stay here?" Klarg demanded in an attempt to wrest control of the situation back.

Taako batted his eyelashes in Klarg's direction in a melodramatic show of… something. Seduction, maybe? It was difficult for Klarg to say. "Aww, c'mon," he wheedled, "we're main dudes, aren't we? That's what we do for each other, am I right?"

The term of endearment hit Klarg like a punch to the gut, stirring up all kinds of emotions that Klarg had neither the time nor the inclination to deal with. This, more than anything so far, made Klarg want to smile and nod and prepare tea for the three of them to enjoy while they ate the fruits of Taako's labor.

He growled at the force that drove that urge, tamping it down. If Taako and Magnus stayed, it would be on Klarg's terms; not the magic's and certainly not the implant's. "Fine," he huffed. "Whatever. I don't care where you go. But I swear, if either of you assholes lays a finger on my fine china or breathes in the direction of my tea stash, I will murder you both in your sleep."

"Sucks to be you, Magnus," Taako crowed. "You're gonna die first."

Magnus looked stricken. "What? Why?"

"Elves don't sleep, genius." Taako grinned at Klarg. "So, big guy, when are you planning on killing ol' Taako?"

'Right now, if you aren't careful,' hovered on the tip of Klarg's tongue, but he held it in. Something told him it was going to be a very long few days.


End file.
